The Bar
by The Vikings Succubus
Summary: Eric searches for the perfect design company to bring his dream bar to life. Little does he know what else he will find.
1. Chapter 1

Eric sighed again as he looked at his list of prospective interior designers. The first had been an annoying unnatural red head that was so snobby and unprofessional that she laughed in his face when he described what he wanted for his bar Arlene Fowler of C&amp;L Studio had pictures cut out of magazines as her portfolio.

The second hit on him the whole 20 minute meeting while she slutted up a poor cousin version of Sharon Stone in that movie. Her 'professional' attire consisted of a barely there skirt and practically open blouse which screamed desperate, not naughty office. She was on the down side of ageing, maybe late forties, with a bad Cheetoh colored streaky bottle tan. She had no prior work to show me, I think it was a store front for prostitution: Dawn Greene Parlor Designs more like $10 handy's and $20 happy ending's.

The last had been a real estate company that had a side division for staging houses to be sold and final design walk through with pre-existing furniture and such in place. Sort of like re-arranging someone's furniture, feng sui and shit like that. I thought I was shit out of luck till I ran into a willowy brunette coming back from a coffee run.

"Hi can I help you find your new home?" she smiled at me.  
"Humm...oh sorry what was that?"  
"Hi I'm Aude. Audrianna Quinn realtor and freelance interior decorator here at Pumphrey and Ball Interiors. Can I help you?" she winked and licked her plump shiny pink lips and I groaned.

I'm so not into getting involved right now. She was sexy and sweet and I have not gotten laid in 3 years. If I just fuck her then work with her it will be awkward and I don't do one nighter's or flings as a rule.

I learned my lesson with Felicia in college. I'm just not a hit and quit type. She fucked with my head, stringing me along while fucking my friends and it was humiliating. Nope just stick with your plan Northman. I've got a deadline. I've got to focus and I've got a shit load of money, not just mine, riding on this endeavor.

I smile back and I'm about to reply when I catch a glimmer from her left hand holding the coffee caddie. What the fuck is with all these women in this city itching to get scratched. She's wearing a ring for God sakes! I so do not want to call Pam and have her send Miriam from NY. I'm on a beer budget and that gluttonous viper lives on carbonated angel blood.

Oh she's staring me. "Hello, Eric Northman. I was wondering if you could refer me to an interior design company. I've struck out all over Shreveport so far. No one seems to get the style I'm envisioning for my bar. "

"Ah... sure. It's slim pickings in these parts and NOLA offers restoration mostly. What are you trying to achieve. Wine bar, Jazz collective, cocktails, maybe a lawyers club?"  
Huh? This sounds promising. She motions me inside the automatic doors to a small showroom with desks off to one side and a small cubicle to back. Like a tiny bank slash furniture store.  
" Just a bar were you can enjoy good music, good drinks, great atmosphere weather you be lawyer, businessman, truck driver, school teacher or small town neighbors. Everyone's welcome."  
"Wow tall order. People round here don't socialize to much. You have city folk, in.. Shreveport, Monroe, Bossier and then country folk, Bon Temps, Hot Shot, Maynard. It's either sawdust and beer or snooty wine and cocktails." She taps her chin thinking.  
This is not sounding good.  
"That's why Shreveport needs a place like mine. Why Louisiana needs a place like mine. We are all Louisiana no matter were we hail from. It will work." I was getting desperate.  
I wanted this as local as I can be. All building materials, marketing, liquor, beer ,food all from Louisiana." I pleaded.  
She smiled a great big smile.  
"Come with me. I know just who can do this"  
She grabbed my arm and we walked about 5 blocks from her office to an old book store. okay...  
"Go on go inside and look. Tell me how this place makes you feel."  
Well here goes nothing. A design store front for prostitution and now a bookstore that designs bars.  
I walk in and am blown away.

Instead of bookshelves it's wall to wall repurposed fireplace mantels of all sizes. The columns aged wood fit in to vintage book vibe. Several small reading areas are set up with reupholstered antique furniture. Small stools and side tables spread about topped with wrought iron lamps, the shades made of old newspapers from different local newspapers aroung the state. The floor is all reclaimed wood. Beautiful and fitting for this place. A picture hanging by the door catches my eye while i'm leaving. It's a small 5x8 black and white photo of two young men and a little boy standing by a barn. The placard reads J&amp;H Design.  
I walk out smilling and hug Aude. I'm elated its exactly what I'm looking for.

She looks bewildered but smiles awkwardly and I thank her again. She totally changed my impression of her, for the better. We head back to her office were she gives me the address, her card and I'm off.  
I'ts not till I reach the interstate that I notice there is no phone number to make an appointment. I pull out my phone and call Aude to ask for it. She tells me its 'word of mouth' only. No appointments. Just show up and someone will be there. Oh and to keep an eye out for a giant wooden humingbird. That's my turn off when I get to Bon Temps. Well back woods here I come.


	2. Creatin'

I take the Bon Temps exit and drive through town looking for this bird. The town consists of small bursts of community surrounded and seperated by expanses of wilderness. Some grassy flatlands wich turn into forests with scattered neihgborhoods inbetween. I get to the center of town wich is maybe ten square blocks of urban developement. A bank, four churches on one block, post office, video store/tanning salon. A small motel that has screams 'bloody massacres here' and plenty small business fill out the town. At the very edge before it's again swallowed by flora is a string of duplexes with a large sign that say, "Merlotte's Bar &amp; Grill, 10 miles ahead. Last diner for 40 miles."

I drive on and wonder were in the hell is this place when I almost miss turn off. I pull up to this paved road were yes, a giant wooden hummingbird mid flight on a post , is jutting above some wild flowers. It's impresive. About 14'H x14'L and a t least a 10 foot wing span, beautifully carved and polished. This is the place.

I follow the drive for about two miles surveying the rolling landscape. Lush green lawn jutting up to a garden of assorted flowers. Framing a well restored yellow farmhouse with white trim, huntergreen shutters and a painted grey porch. A quaint porchswing sways in the breeze. Feels like home. So they run a business out of an old farmhouse Eric thought to himself. Down to earth and steeped in culture reminded him of his grandparents in Sweden. And the whole reason he picked Louisiana.  
There is a post off to the side of the porch with a placard that reads : 'Stackehouse Residence All Are Welcome or you'll pick your switch.'  
I walk up the porch and read a small sign buy the door that says ring for service. I ring and hear a stampede of small feet running towards the door.  
It swings open and the screen door is pushed out and he's met by what looks to be an 8 year old boy, with a mop of brown hair and big blue eyes wearing tan polo with J&amp;H Design on the left of his shirt and 'Hunter' on the right in the companies hunter green stitching. He's in jeans , tan work boots and has a small leather work belt on filled with pens ,pencils, paint brushes and a small nootebook. Hanging off his belt loop is a small black and yellow walkie talkie.  
He reaches his hand out and presents me with a business card. I take it and offers me his hand. He shakes my hand in a firm, for an 8 yr old, grip and introduces himself.  
"Good afternoon and welcome to the Stackhouse homestaed. I'm Hunter Savoy, design assistant J&amp;H Design. Please come in."

What the hell? Well he's been the most professional person I've met besides Aude. But a child...wait? He's the kid from the picture. Eric reasoned. He decided to hear him out.

"Thank you Mr. Savoy. Eric, Eric Northman. Please to meet you."  
"Just call me Hunter. Please have a seet. Would you like any thing to drink, water, tea, coffee?" He led me to the parlor off the foyer and motioned for me to sit on the couch. I sat and took in my surroundings. Nice modern furniture for an old fashioned place. A mix of modern and anitque. Quite homey filled with family photos.  
"I'll take a water thanks."  
He trots off to the kitchen and after hearing cupboards banging for 10 minutes he comes back with polished woode tray made from a slice of a tree trunk showing all the rings, a glass of ice, bottled water and a ham sandwhich cut in half. See professional.

" So Mr. Northman what brings you here today." He sits across from in a small high back chair, his size, and pulls a compesition book from the side table. Opens it and is ready for notes.  
"Please call me Eric. I'm opening a bar in Shreveport and I have been searching for a interior design company that can meet my needs." He jots something down and looks at me seriously "Well Eric what kind of bar, and were in Shreveport? Rowdy biker, upscale businessman, beer n' nachos. Downtown, uptown, outskirts or warehouse district?"  
Color me impressed.

"For were its at, uptown near the southern edge of town. As for what kind all of the above."  
He nods and writes furiously in his notebook. Pausing and mumbling ever so often. Then he smiles and says..  
"Well Eric looks like your renovatin' and old mill right at the edge of uptown were industry meets city with a view of the river. Perfect spot. Accesible by everyone. Close enough to be edgy to the city slickers and far enough to be classy to us bumpkins. To me it says Louisiana."  
I'm a dead fish. Gaping. This kid gets it.  
"Yes exactly what i'm looking for. Can you do it? All local though. Everything has to be from LouIsiana. Can you?"

"Sure 'nough Eric. Let me call the bosses."  
He picks up his walkie and starts talking.  
"Uncle Jas I gotta live one thats right up our allie. PC is hungry and we gots da chow. Over."  
"Ten four Hunt. Details." I hear a man reply and my hearts thundering, ready to pop awaiting hopefully good news.  
"Bar in Shreveport. Renovate. Repurpose. All local vendors. Exciting theme. You ready...Louisiana. Over."  
I'm biting my nails here. Yes or no this is my last shot. I promised my Farfar that I would make my dreams come true and foolow my own path like he did. He and Morfar were the only important people to me who believed in me.  
"Reel im in. Over."

"Follow me Eric, times a'wastin'."


	3. Chapter 3

I follow my new JR designer out of the parlor through a long hallway covered with family portraits. From one picture to the next each is filled with happy smiling people. What a wonderful fucking life they have. I'm not bitter just jaded I guess. My life growing up was definitely different than this especially when your ripped from your life in another country. This place reminds me of Farfar and the cabin, that was home.

I think back to my empty apartment in NOLA, save for some furniture and my collection of rare books, not one picture is displayed. Everything was large, dark wood, expensive and haunting. Being an only child orphaned in my teens and sent to America to live with my Dad's business partner was jarring and later a nightmare, there was no one but me and him. And now just me and my net worth. I shake my self free of the bad memories and focus on the kitchen we enter at the end of the hallway.

It's a mixture of country kitchen meets top chef. A mixture of stainless steel appliances warmed by rich walnut cabinets and cupboards topped with a creamy white granite swirled with dark green striations throughout. A large butcher block next to the massive island catches my eye. It's a turned piece of tree trunk about 3 feet by 3 feet by 4 feet high polished to a high gloss except for the well worn top. Amazing. That fucker's heavy.

As we exit through the country double door of the kithen a gun rack on the wall by the door catches my eye. It's got at least 2 rifles, 2 shot guns and a variety of hand guns plus ammo boxes. The very top rungs are empty. Next to it are displayed many plaques, trophies and medals for marksmanship competitions in the name of one Adele Stackhouse and a Sookie Stackhouse. I don't miss the photo of a beautiful mature women with graying blond hair holding a shotgun proudly surrounded by 10 men of varying ages also with guns. She's clearly the winner, as what the wall displays, a plaque in the photo states, ' Northern District Gun Club 30th Annual Marksmanship Challenge, High Caliber Weapon of Choice Challenge, March 19, 2014'. Holy Fuck.

For an older woman she looks good... like real good. Curvaceous figure, bright blue eyes and beautiful smile. She's an absolute knock out and and if I were 30 years older I would pursue her. Geeze I need to get laid I'm panting over a 60 year old woman but she's fucking hot. I'm broken out of my lustful thoughts by Hunter.

"OH Hey that's my Gran Adele Stackhouse. She can shoot flies off a horses ass 200 yards away." Embarrassed much, get a grip Northman. Your purving his grandmother.  
"That's impressive." I nod looking away from the photo.

"Yeah she taught us all how to shoot before we could walk. The only one better than her is my aunt Sookie. She'd shoot the wings off at 300 yards. She don't compete much though. With school an all. She's at LSU now. Be home in 2 weeks for Grans 75th birthday". He said proudly. I totally missed the sadness in his voice while speaking of his aunt who he clearly misses, by blurting out...

"75! Your Gran is going to be 75. WOAH.." Great going douche. Lets wrap this up by asking for a copy of a picture of her preferably laminated.  
"I'm sorry I..I.." I what, ' sorry I'm popping a semi for your 75 year old grandmother in front of you' fucking douchenozzle Northman! Play this anymore smoothy and your bar will be draped in eggplant colored velvet selling overpriced wine to snobby elitists per Miriam. I shudder internally at that thought. I'm brought out of my thoughts by a giggle from beside me.

"S'okay. She gets that alot. She acts more like a co-ed who got her big break doing Playboy than a Grandmother. Well that's what Uncle Jase says when he complains about having to stay at the office when Grandpa comes home from his business trips. I don't know what a co-ed or Playboy is but I hafta sleep over with Jase and Sookie for the times when Granpa comes home. After a week we come back to the house and have a big dinner. Well c'mom lets git. Work to do."

I just nod and stumble towards the door dumbfounded. She's a hot 75 year old woman who has the sex life of a sorority girl gone Playboy model at Hef's mansion. Okay, just fucking breath and nod and think of baby seals being beaten with bats. Good semi gone. Focus Northman. Your BAR.

Just as I pass the threshold I catch sight of her in a photo, his GRAN, 75 YEAR OLD GRAN, rocking a red bikini in the arms of, who I assume to be, Uncle Jase being tossed into a pool. Seriously? Her breast are FUCKING amaizing. Total hour glass with double d's. Fucking A!

OUCH! Fuck what the hell. I rub my head and look up and see I've walked into top half of the back door. I open in, ten shade of fucking embarassed, and walk out to the back yard. So fucking smooth Northman. We exited out the screen door to a varitable paradise. Beautiful stone paved walkway surrounding an in ground pool complete with hot tub. Built in BBQ and smoker with plush seating and fire place, not pit. Holy fucking shit Batman. Looks like Hef's backyard complete with grotto. And hello semi welcome back you bastard. Beyond the fantastical pool paradise that puts most backyards on MTV Cribs to shame lay a vast green lawn abutting a huge forest as far as the eye can see. I stood gaping until I heard a small cough to my right.

"Awesome isn't it". Hunter chuckled.

"Paradise". I nodded mouth still gaping.

"Well you come by anytime you want. Gran loves company". He said cordially and walked off down the path that led to a two story mini condo that was the exact replica of the farmhouse. How did I no notice that. Oh you were banging his grandmothers tits in the grotto perve, that's why. Wait he said I could come by anytime...

"Fuck yeah! I mean really... sorry um..I mean thanks". He laughed and kept walking around the path past the condo wich sat about 50 yards from the pool towards a camoflouge Kubota and pulled some keys out of his pocket to start it up.

"Jump in office is just over that hill through the trees". This kid was cooler than any of my friends at that age, hell any age. I jumped in and asked about the condo.

" Oh that's were Aunt Sookie lives. Granpa built it as a play house for Uncle Corbett and Aunt Linda. Thems' Granpa's and Gran's kids. They're gone now." He finished quietly. I'm guessing they died but I won't pry. I know how it feels. We road quietly for a few minutes and I enjoyed the view through the trees.

"This is really beautiful land. How long has your family lived here?" I asked to break the sad silence.

Hunter talked about the Stackhouse's giving me an intimate retelling of family history that was really interesting. The Stackhouse's were the first family to settle in the new world here in Louisiana.

Prince Augustus Stackfordshire, a lower royal related to Queen Elizabeth, had fallen in love with the daughter of a German nobleman who were allied with his family in a land dispute between the Hungary and Germany border. The Stackfordshire royal family country residence in Germany fell across this border which Hungary claimed Germany stole. Unwilling to move and being great friends with the German nobleman, Gran Duke Heinrich von Wullhous, Augustus's father Prince Edmund sided with the Grand Duke and pushed the Hungarians off the land. Throughout the fighting Augustus had fallen for Duchess Adelaide who became pregnant, while she was promised to a German Baron since birth. When their relationship came to light one afternoon both families were furious. Prince Edmund because Heinrich refused to give his daughters hand and Heinrich because his reputation was tarnished for not keeping his daughter chaste. A horrible fight broke out between families and Augustus and Adelaide fled that night taking no possessions but her jewelry and the clothes on their backs. When they reached America Augustus changed their names to Earl and Adele Stackhouse and bought property in Louisiana and made a home for their growing family.

"So for the next 200 years we Stackhouse's have lived here flourishin' and such. Kinda cool tah think we got royal blood. Just don't ever call Aunt Sookie a Princess unless ya want tah loose your ability tah pee." He laughed.

Wow what a history lesson. I could relate my Grandfather is the Crown Prince of Sweden, or was. Guess that makes me heir apparent. Well enough about that shit.

" Quite the history Hunter. And I'll take that under advisement not mess with Aunt Sookie." I look up and we are pulling up to a huge modern structure that resembles a red barn. Huge 10 foot double doors open up to an office building sitting room you would find in a downtown high rise complete with water cooler. I step back out and look at the 4 story façade of bright brick red wood and shrug. Fucking impressive.

We walk to the elevator doors and Hunter presses the up arrow. The door slides open to a fucking hunting lodge.

"This is were you work?" I practically screech. Wall to wall wood, like a fucking cabin. Except for the bay windows that give panoramic views of the property. Fucking grassy pastures in one, a fairytale forest complete with lake in another and the fucking best is...drum roll please: Hunter has his own motorcross park with lighting. Done. Kill me, I've gone to boy heaven.

"Hey there I'm Jason Stackhouse, ya' met Hunter our Junior Designer and this here is ma' good buddy and parder' Hoyt Foytenberry. We're J&amp;H Design. Welcome." He smiled but my semi bonered ass was four wheeling over mountains of dirt and couldn't be bothered,

" Uh gun.." Because, 'Yes, I'm Eric Northman and thank you for meeting with me" IS TO HARD TO SAY Douche Northman at your service. Really Eric, first your perving their beloved Gran with the jaw dropping rack and now your Sloth creaming about Stackhouse WMD'S with one word answers, 'rockyroad' dumbass. I'm still stuck taking in their office and it's fucking awesome.

Huge stone built fireplace in the far left between the windows. To my immediate left is a small wooden desk that looks carved out of a tree trunk. Just the right size for an 8 year old with room to grow. Behind it a huge wooden bookshelf with rolling ladder to reach the leather bound knowledge. To the left of the desk was a wooden gun case with glass doors that has been converted to a file cabinet. The desk contains a lamp made of antlers with a rawhide shade and a flat screen monitor for the computer. Two similar but quite larger desks fill this 'office' space with matching bookshelves, lamp and gun rack file cabinets. The actual gun rack is a 10 foot tall rack of graduated size antlers holding everything from AR-Ks to double barrel sawed off shot guns to hunting rifles and desert eagles. I counted 6.

"It's alright man, everyone thinks Gran's hot. We are used to it and ya' twernt' pervin' just admirin' the ole gal. Now about this bar that's supposed to BE Louisiana. Whatcha got in mind?"

I said that OUT LOUD! Nice, great. Chock it up to nerves Northman and lets focus.

"Sorry she's quite beautiful . I am Eric Northman and I am looking for a design company to help bring my bar in Shreveport to life. This place is not what I thought but am pleasantly surprised and if I may relieved. Hunter's vision is fucking on point and when I walked into your home I felt at home, at peace and I feel here, in this place, I totally fucking belong and I haven't felt that in a long, long time." I reverently stated. Can't go wrong with the truth. This place feels like home and I know this will work by just looking at the artistry around me.

" Well hell Eric, Y'all are family now man. Grab a saddle and let's get down to business." Did I mention the 'office' chairs are repurposed saddles as in all leather horse saddles. Fucking A awesome.

So I'm happy that you all like my story. I've been an avid reader since 2009 when my sister-cousin introduced me to my fantasy soul mate. I've tried my hand at fanfiction after I found the Great Goddess ERICIZMINE but have never put key to screen if you will. I have followed and reviewed some of the greatest stories here and on personal blog sites and have finally found the courage to bare my typing chops. I'm hoping you enjoy the fantasy I have woven and I am completely humbled by any who follow, favorite and review. I also must state that I'm a worse communicator than Eric and Sookie put together so honestly I might not reply. I guess I'm kind of like a shark dropping a mermaid purse filled with possible treasure or maybe a spider leaving an egg sack filled with secrecy and wonder. Nahhhh more like a flip sided Edward Scissorhands neighbor rallying the other bored housewives to the top of the literary hill to snuff out the blemish that is CH.

Speaking of said...author DISCLAIMOR: Don't own nuthin' can't afford nuthin' didn't write the original nor nuthin' from that show on there HBO.

Only spreading the good word of Viking hotness and Gracious Plentifuls abounding. Let us end this in the Rite Of Lemonkind: HEAD DOWN ASS UP THAT'S THE WAY MY VIKING LIKES TO F


	4. Chapter 4

**So my lovely readers, I am a totally fucking spaz. I saved this chapter to edit but posted it instead so now that you have read it and waited for the next one I'm sure you'll be thrilled you get to read it again (ducks from rancid fruit flying at my head) I am begging for forgiveness that you must read this again and wait for the next chapter also...(ducks quickly to avoid rotting meat thrown at my head) I'm very sorry , life in the way, blah, blah, blah. Here you go. No excuses. I'll try harder not to fuck this up again. And I'm really sorry about the crappy first chapters full of errors. They make my eyes bleed. Well on with the show... Oh um not mine, don't own nuthin' never made nuthin' up 'cept this here story from my own imagination using characters created and misused by CH, further misuse from AB. Love ya...OH um a wonderful reader messaged me and asked about warnings for abuse. Very thankful to her for pointing that out and again apologize for any uncomfortableness I caused. (Looks away in shame) So lots of child abuse, verbal, psychological, emotional abuse. Sorry about triggers. Okay go read, enjoy.**

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

I jump in my car and am on the road back to Shreveport with lightning rushing through my veins. I'm totally amped that this is , my dream, finally becoming reality and I couldn't be more sure of my decision to go with J&amp;H Design. What Hunter came up with, his vision for a kid, is ten kinds of awesome. I mean they have family, cousins, uhh what was the name? Ah , yes, Crane. They worked with Pam in Dubia. I seen it in Nola and on every major motion picture for the last 5 years. Crane Technique INC. I'm not shitting you Daniel-son. They do set design but use reclaimed urban salvage and repurpose it for movies, TV shows and commercials or anyone who can afford them. Now I have an in. Sweet balls this is fucking wax-on-wax-off awesome.

While ruminating over my JR designer's vision I realize I pass up the Grab It Qwick. Damn. Now I have to go to Walmart. Ugghh. I fucking hate Walmart. Not the store but what's inside it. Desparate housewives and agressive skanks. One would think a single man, a fucking good looking single man would love to have this kind of attention, but as my partner in crime, Pam, says ' just beacause it's free doesn't mean it's good'. Of course she also says that organic is the way to go, that's why she shops at Whole Foods, you are what you eat and she is always looking for fresh and additive free. She wasnt talking about food.

I sigh and pull in to find a parking space. Wish they had a drive through. Wish I had taken Jason up on his offer for steak an' beer but I have a meeting in the morning with my laywer to sort out my Farfar's estate in Shreveport. He bought it when I was supposed to move here. Just me and him. Will's are a bitch and my Dad's was a festering bag of assholes. An amendment was miraculously found last minute and I was carted off to his 'business partner' whom I never met and was to be my 'guardian'.

It stated me and all my worldly possessions now belonged to one Albert Oclaudius Lewis. Seriously it screams pretentious, demented, delusional and greedy. My lawyer could not have the amendment proven false so at 11 I became a prisoner. Lewis, as he ordered me to call him, removed all my luggage, my furniture, my life and locked me in a small bedroom in the corporate apartment were I was left alone to live. I was never allowed to leave. He forbid any access to the outside world including the mandatory visit from NOLA to Shreveport to see my Grandfather, my FarFar stating I did not want to see him. Only I could refuse It will be hard to walk inside that place and see all that he provided for me, to finally come home. To remember what I actually lived with till I was 18. Not going there. I can't. Focus Northman. The Bar.

I grab a cart and venture into the land of cougars, skanks and tramps Oh my.  
I'm heading down the meat case after extracting myself for the third time, from an over 40 something 'woman' wearing Miley Cyruse's latest fashion don't on her not pre-pubesent body, think a sausage wrapped in wire, covered in a pound of make up and eu de skank. She grabbed my ass like she was re-enacting Cliffhanger and wispered with ciggarette and cock breath that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Fuck I just about vomited again thinking about it. I'm not in the mood for food anymore but I got to keep my strength up to start working on the inside of my club. Yes focus on my club.

I'm choosing some steak when I'm bumped into from behind. I'm about to throw in the towel and just go with whats in my cart when I hear a very feminine voice with a sultry southern accent say excuse me. I turn and am met with beautiful emerald eyes attached to a very gorgeous woman. She's about my hieght, very slender with long blond hair.

"Oh um excuse me..." She giggles and smiles a familiar smile.  
"Claudine. Claudine Crane. Nice to meet you.." She holds her hand out for me to shake. its warm and soft.  
"Eric Northman nice to meet you to." Her eyes light up when she hears my name. Curious.  
"Oh my goodness your Eric Northman. The club... ah bar in Shreveport right?" She says excitedly. Wow not even open and people know about it and me, huh?

"Yes that's right. How do you know of it?" She smiles widely and dimples appear. Very familiar dimples.  
"Oh yes my cousin Hunter emailed me and told me all about his first real client. It's so good to meet you and you won't be sorry. He really is very good. Some of Jason and Hoyt's past clients have been less receptive to Hunters involvement. And some had tried to steal his ideas after hearing them while claiming they were not in sync with their vision. He's been through so much in his short life so it's quite wonderful that you are taking him seriously. You are right, taking him seriously? He's been burned in the past."

She started out so excited but ended with anger, a threatning look then sadness. Wow familiar in deed. The cousins he mentioned. And what the fuck is this about assholes snubbing Hunter. The kids got insight. He's fucking brilliant. I didn't even think of half the stuff he came up with. VIP fob key chains to restricted VIP only areas to cut down on unwanted activity. He said if I tell them it's for safety and not spying then they'll cave. Well he said, 'You'll catch more flies with bullshit than sweet honesty' fucking A right.

" Please, Ms. Crane I can..." I started to reply.  
"It's Claudine please." she smiled.  
"Claudine, I can assure you that I'm taking him very seriously. He's the first out of a string of hack design companies that completely understood what I'm trying to achieve. And his ideas, wow, that kid is gonna be famous. He thinks outside the box while keeping in mind everything that I want including how I want things done. I'm all about repurposing and only using local products."

"Yes that's why he emailed me. Well our company. My sister, brother and I are triplets and cousins to the Stackhouse's, we're Crane Technique INC. We specialize in decoration, window and set displays and designs, photo shoots, movie sets,department window displays, corporate and private home seasonal decorating. We do fabrication but mostly it's refurbished, renovate and repurpose using any and all materials from the state of Louisiana. We just finished a period piece for Edgington Elite Productions. It's about the Civil War staring Bon Temps own Bill Compton and Edgington's husband Talbot Nickohlaus. So we cleared our schedule when Hunter requisitioned our services for the next three months. We are supplying a new up and coming entrepreneur in Shreveport." She winked at me and I blushed. I'm also stunned that they, that Hunter has got connections like this, even if it's family. I've heard about Crane Technique. They did Pam's window display for her boutique opening in Dubai. They worked miracles with what they had to work with. Which was fully covered mannequins. Her store sold out in a week and they are still backordered through the end of the year. In fact that is where she is now till a few weeks before the bar is opened.  
"I'm grateful that you accepted his request. I have heard about Crane Techniques. You did a window display for my friend Pam's boutique opening in Dubai. Your work speaks for itself. Very impressive. I have an awesome JR designer that knows his shit and I trust him with mine and my partners money 100%." She tearing up a bit at my accolades for her cousin. I wonder what he has been through but its none of my business. If he or any of the family tell me then that's fine. I won't pry. I don't like talking about my painful memories either. No one knows or can relate to what you are or what you went through "Your really a great guy Mr. Northman. This means alot to him and to us. When his parents were killed, well this really is not the kind of place for that conversation. Would you like to get a cup of coffee? I need to pick up the twins in an hour so I have time."

"Sure I'd like that. I need to run my groceries home so I'll meet you in 20." She nodded and gave me the address to a local coffee shop a couple of blocks from my hotel. We said our goodbyes and picked my steak, got my champange and checked out. It took me a good 15 minutes speeding from the Walmart in Monroe. I put everything away in the suites mini fridge and freshened up abit making it to the coffee shop with no time to spare.  
I found Claudine sitting next to a tall, thin man with long wavy dark brown hair and green eyes. He had on some dark jeans and a white button up just as Claudine was wearing. They stood with welcoming smiles and Claudine leaned in for a hug and introduced me to her husband Colman Ayers. We shook hands, sat and he motioned for the waitress to take our orders.  
"Colman's a lawyer at Brigant Cataliades and Ayers Law Group here in Shreveport." My eyes widened.  
" Brigant?" I questioned. Did they know my uncle. He's not my real uncle but that's what I've called him for years. He was Farfar's best friend and legal and financial advisor. He's also mine. Small world.

"That name is not common here in the states." I spoke quietly digesting what this could possibly mean for me. Could Niall have pulled the strings to have my inheritance frozen pending fraud and embezzlement charges brought on Lewis which lead to me being emancipated at 16. Of course because of legalities I was to remain were I was but at least I could have visitors, unfortunately not my Farfar. Uncle Fin had shown up everyday with letters from him and my favorite foods to eat. By the time of the ruling three years later, well I still missed him.  
"Why yes. You know Niall?" Colman questioned.  
"Ah no. Well I've met him once at my grandfathers funeral. I know Fintan." They shared a look and then turned to me and grinned.  
" Fintan is Niall's son. Our father is Fintan's twin brother, Dillon. There are three actually. Triplets. Uncle Dermot is in England running his own pharmacutical company. Grandfather was not happy about that. Dermot always wanted to be a doctor, but Niall forbid it. Dad is the new director of The Great Alexandria Egyptian Museaum and Library in Cairo. He always loved art. You can imagine Niall when not one or two but all three son's broke free and persued thier dreams. He was not happy about a lot of things." Claudine sighed sadly.

Fuck. Uncle Fintan told me his father was dissapointed in him and the choices he made in his life. "He told me, after a particularly painful meeting we had before the case went to trial, that to never give up on my dreams, fight for what I want in life because we only get one to live and there are no do overs. It helped me greatly and I'm doing things I have a passion for and I'm happy."

"Yes that is what he told us when we were starting our company. My father always wanted to be an artist but grandfather made him go to law school. When he rebelled and left to attend university in France, Niall entrapted him in an arrainged marriage passed off as a business deal were his mother, Grandma Enin would be left destitute if he did not follow through. His hands were tied so he followed through with the marriage but would not go to law agreed as long as Dillon produced an heir. Which was cruel because our dad is gay.

"He never loved our mother but granfather forbid divorce. They separated when Fintan left the families law practice in England to comfort his very close friend when his wife died. While here he discovered what grandfather was doing to his brother and us. Naill had us seperated at 5 years old and sent to different boarding schools. He had our mother sign over her parental rights when he offered to 'fix' our dad. She came to reunite with him here in Louisiana believing everything was different. Grandfather had lied and she realized she signed over her children to a monster. She could not stand the guilt and after a very heated fight with dad she flew home and hung herself in our empty nursery.

"We were seperated for ten years before we saw eachother again. It was a battle but Fintan fought Niall hard and finally won. It was a picture of our mother in the morgue. She was laid out on the cold metal table clutching our baby picture. They had to leave it. Rigor mortis set in by the time they found her and the mortition would have to saw off her fingers to remove it. Niall came himself to each school to bring us home. We did not speak one word to him until he was on his death bed." Claudine finished somberly.

I remeber the pictures of my mothers broken body twisted in the metal of her car. A lime green Baraccuda she called 'Hulk' because he was my favorite comic book hero. Lewis made sure I had new pictures delivered with my breakfast every morning. Her autopsy picture was the worst. The only recognizable thing was my baby hand print tattoo above her heart. Which was circled in red marker by Lewis. I had stopped opening the envelopes by the third day but he would tempt with the possibility of a letter from my Farfar. Cruelty of children at it's finest. A mark was never left upon my person but the scars run deep.

Shit heavy ass topic and no matter how much I don't want to discuss painful private matters I can't help the kinship I feel with this family seeing as how the similar our circumstances were but I'm getting to know my suppliers and we are closer due to our mutual relationships and hardships. I can't believe how closely our pain was inflicted. My father too was 'disappointed' in me and my choices even though I was a child. He was also very jealous of my relationship with his father. He could never have the opportunities my life would afford me and he wanted his father and me to pay. He made sure of it. I'm brought out of my musings by a throat clearing by our table. I look up into very familiar green eyes.

"Welcome child. Welcome home and welcome to the family my boy."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

**So my special window licking self posted an un-edited chapter thinking I'm ahead of posting. Sorry for that. I blame incompetence but I'm also training for a new job and I'm excited. The only fucking thing I hate but kinda love is the hours, 4am-2pm. So I've been zombified for the past two weeks. But back on track now I hope. Sorry for the errors.**


	5. Chapter 5 Welcome Child Part Deux

**So my lovely readers, I am a totally fucking spaz. I saved this chapter to edit but posted it instead so now that you have read it and waited for the next one I'm sure you'll be thrilled you get to read it again (ducks from rancid fruit flying at my head) I am begging for forgiveness that you must read this again and wait for the next chapter also...(ducks quickly to avoid rotting meat thrown at my head) I'm very sorry , life in the way, blah, blah, blah. Here you go. No excuses. I'll try harder not to fuck this up again. And I'm really sorry about the crappy first chapters full of errors. They make my eyes bleed. Well on with the show... Oh um not mine, don't own nuthin' never made nuthin' up 'cept this here story from my own imagination using characters created and misused by CH, further misuse from AB. Love ya...OH um a wonderful reader messaged me and asked about warnings for abuse. Very thankful to her for pointing that out and again apologize for any uncomfortableness I caused. (Looks away in shame) So lots of child abuse, verbal, psychological, emotional abuse. Sorry about triggers. Okay go read, enjoy.**

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

I jump in my car and am on the road back to Shreveport with lightning rushing through my veins. I'm totally amped that this is , my dream, finally becoming reality and I couldn't be more sure of my decision to go with J&amp;H Design. What Hunter came up with, his vision for a kid, is ten kinds of awesome. I mean they have family, cousins, uhh what was the name? Ah , yes, Crane. They worked with Pam in Dubia. I seen it in Nola and on every major motion picture for the last 5 years. Crane Technique INC. I'm not shitting you Daniel-son. They do set design but use reclaimed urban salvage and repurpose it for movies, TV shows and commercials or anyone who can afford them. Now I have an in. Sweet balls this is fucking wax-on-wax-off awesome.

While ruminating over my JR designer's vision I realize I pass up the Grab It Qwick. Damn. Now I have to go to Walmart. Ugghh. I fucking hate Walmart. Not the store but what's inside it. Desparate housewives and agressive skanks. One would think a single man, a fucking good looking single man would love to have this kind of attention, but as my partner in crime, Pam, says ' just beacause it's free doesn't mean it's good'. Of course she also says that organic is the way to go, that's why she shops at Whole Foods, you are what you eat and she is always looking for fresh and additive free. She wasnt talking about food.

I sigh and pull in to find a parking space. Wish they had a drive through. Wish I had taken Jason up on his offer for steak an' beer but I have a meeting in the morning with my laywer to sort out my Farfar's estate in Shreveport. He bought it when I was supposed to move here. Just me and him. Will's are a bitch and my Dad's was a festering bag of assholes. An amendment was miraculously found last minute and I was carted off to his 'business partner' whom I never met and was to be my 'guardian'.

It stated me and all my worldly possessions now belonged to one Albert Oclaudius Lewis. Seriously it screams pretentious, demented, delusional and greedy. My lawyer could not have the amendment proven false so at 11 I became a prisoner. Lewis, as he ordered me to call him, removed all my luggage, my furniture, my life and locked me in a small bedroom in the corporate apartment were I was left alone to live. I was never allowed to leave. He forbid any access to the outside world including the mandatory visit from NOLA to Shreveport to see my Grandfather, my FarFar stating I did not want to see him. Only I could refuse It will be hard to walk inside that place and see all that he provided for me, to finally come home. To remember what I actually lived with till I was 18. Not going there. I can't. Focus Northman. The Bar.

I grab a cart and venture into the land of cougars, skanks and tramps Oh my.  
I'm heading down the meat case after extracting myself for the third time, from an over 40 something 'woman' wearing Miley Cyruse's latest fashion don't on her not pre-pubesent body, think a sausage wrapped in wire, covered in a pound of make up and eu de skank. She grabbed my ass like she was re-enacting Cliffhanger and wispered with ciggarette and cock breath that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Fuck I just about vomited again thinking about it. I'm not in the mood for food anymore but I got to keep my strength up to start working on the inside of my club. Yes focus on my club.

I'm choosing some steak when I'm bumped into from behind. I'm about to throw in the towel and just go with whats in my cart when I hear a very feminine voice with a sultry southern accent say excuse me. I turn and am met with beautiful emerald eyes attached to a very gorgeous woman. She's about my hieght, very slender with long blond hair.

"Oh um excuse me..." She giggles and smiles a familiar smile.  
"Claudine. Claudine Crane. Nice to meet you.." She holds her hand out for me to shake. its warm and soft.  
"Eric Northman nice to meet you to." Her eyes light up when she hears my name. Curious.  
"Oh my goodness your Eric Northman. The club... ah bar in Shreveport right?" She says excitedly. Wow not even open and people know about it and me, huh?

"Yes that's right. How do you know of it?" She smiles widely and dimples appear. Very familiar dimples.  
"Oh yes my cousin Hunter emailed me and told me all about his first real client. It's so good to meet you and you won't be sorry. He really is very good. Some of Jason and Hoyt's past clients have been less receptive to Hunters involvement. And some had tried to steal his ideas after hearing them while claiming they were not in sync with their vision. He's been through so much in his short life so it's quite wonderful that you are taking him seriously. You are right, taking him seriously? He's been burned in the past."

She started out so excited but ended with anger, a threatning look then sadness. Wow familiar in deed. The cousins he mentioned. And what the fuck is this about assholes snubbing Hunter. The kids got insight. He's fucking brilliant. I didn't even think of half the stuff he came up with. VIP fob key chains to restricted VIP only areas to cut down on unwanted activity. He said if I tell them it's for safety and not spying then they'll cave. Well he said, 'You'll catch more flies with bullshit than sweet honesty' fucking A right.

" Please, Ms. Crane I can..." I started to reply.  
"It's Claudine please." she smiled.  
"Claudine, I can assure you that I'm taking him very seriously. He's the first out of a string of hack design companies that completely understood what I'm trying to achieve. And his ideas, wow, that kid is gonna be famous. He thinks outside the box while keeping in mind everything that I want including how I want things done. I'm all about repurposing and only using local products."

"Yes that's why he emailed me. Well our company. My sister, brother and I are triplets and cousins to the Stackhouse's, we're Crane Technique INC. We specialize in decoration, window and set displays and designs, photo shoots, movie sets,department window displays, corporate and private home seasonal decorating. We do fabrication but mostly it's refurbished, renovate and repurpose using any and all materials from the state of Louisiana. We just finished a period piece for Edgington Elite Productions. It's about the Civil War staring Bon Temps own Bill Compton and Edgington's husband Talbot Nickohlaus. So we cleared our schedule when Hunter requisitioned our services for the next three months. We are supplying a new up and coming entrepreneur in Shreveport." She winked at me and I blushed. I'm also stunned that they, that Hunter has got connections like this, even if it's family. I've heard about Crane Technique. They did Pam's window display for her boutique opening in Dubai. They worked miracles with what they had to work with. Which was fully covered mannequins. Her store sold out in a week and they are still backordered through the end of the year. In fact that is where she is now till a few weeks before the bar is opened.  
"I'm grateful that you accepted his request. I have heard about Crane Techniques. You did a window display for my friend Pam's boutique opening in Dubai. Your work speaks for itself. Very impressive. I have an awesome JR designer that knows his shit and I trust him with mine and my partners money 100%." She tearing up a bit at my accolades for her cousin. I wonder what he has been through but its none of my business. If he or any of the family tell me then that's fine. I won't pry. I don't like talking about my painful memories either. No one knows or can relate to what you are or what you went through "Your really a great guy Mr. Northman. This means alot to him and to us. When his parents were killed, well this really is not the kind of place for that conversation. Would you like to get a cup of coffee? I need to pick up the twins in an hour so I have time."

"Sure I'd like that. I need to run my groceries home so I'll meet you in 20." She nodded and gave me the address to a local coffee shop a couple of blocks from my hotel. We said our goodbyes and picked my steak, got my champange and checked out. It took me a good 15 minutes speeding from the Walmart in Monroe. I put everything away in the suites mini fridge and freshened up abit making it to the coffee shop with no time to spare.  
I found Claudine sitting next to a tall, thin man with long wavy dark brown hair and green eyes. He had on some dark jeans and a white button up just as Claudine was wearing. They stood with welcoming smiles and Claudine leaned in for a hug and introduced me to her husband Colman Ayers. We shook hands, sat and he motioned for the waitress to take our orders.  
"Colman's a lawyer at Brigant Cataliades and Ayers Law Group here in Shreveport." My eyes widened.  
" Brigant?" I questioned. Did they know my uncle. He's not my real uncle but that's what I've called him for years. He was Farfar's best friend and legal and financial advisor. He's also mine. Small world.

"That name is not common here in the states." I spoke quietly digesting what this could possibly mean for me. Could Niall have pulled the strings to have my inheritance frozen pending fraud and embezzlement charges brought on Lewis which lead to me being emancipated at 16. Of course because of legalities I was to remain were I was but at least I could have visitors, unfortunately not my Farfar. Uncle Fin had shown up everyday with letters from him and my favorite foods to eat. By the time of the ruling three years later, well I still missed him.  
"Why yes. You know Niall?" Colman questioned.  
"Ah no. Well I've met him once at my grandfathers funeral. I know Fintan." They shared a look and then turned to me and grinned.  
" Fintan is Niall's son. Our father is Fintan's twin brother, Dillon. There are three actually. Triplets. Uncle Dermot is in England running his own pharmacutical company. Grandfather was not happy about that. Dermot always wanted to be a doctor, but Niall forbid it. Dad is the new director of The Great Alexandria Egyptian Museaum and Library in Cairo. He always loved art. You can imagine Niall when not one or two but all three son's broke free and persued thier dreams. He was not happy about a lot of things." Claudine sighed sadly.

Fuck. Uncle Fintan told me his father was dissapointed in him and the choices he made in his life. "He told me, after a particularly painful meeting we had before the case went to trial, that to never give up on my dreams, fight for what I want in life because we only get one to live and there are no do overs. It helped me greatly and I'm doing things I have a passion for and I'm happy."

"Yes that is what he told us when we were starting our company. My father always wanted to be an artist but grandfather made him go to law school. When he rebelled and left to attend university in France, Niall entrapted him in an arrainged marriage passed off as a business deal were his mother, Grandma Enin would be left destitute if he did not follow through. His hands were tied so he followed through with the marriage but would not go to law agreed as long as Dillon produced an heir. Which was cruel because our dad is gay.

"He never loved our mother but granfather forbid divorce. They separated when Fintan left the families law practice in England to comfort his very close friend when his wife died. While here he discovered what grandfather was doing to his brother and us. Naill had us seperated at 5 years old and sent to different boarding schools. He had our mother sign over her parental rights when he offered to 'fix' our dad. She came to reunite with him here in Louisiana believing everything was different. Grandfather had lied and she realized she signed over her children to a monster. She could not stand the guilt and after a very heated fight with dad she flew home and hung herself in our empty nursery.

"We were seperated for ten years before we saw eachother again. It was a battle but Fintan fought Niall hard and finally won. It was a picture of our mother in the morgue. She was laid out on the cold metal table clutching our baby picture. They had to leave it. Rigor mortis set in by the time they found her and the mortition would have to saw off her fingers to remove it. Niall came himself to each school to bring us home. We did not speak one word to him until he was on his death bed." Claudine finished somberly.

I remeber the pictures of my mothers broken body twisted in the metal of her car. A lime green Baraccuda she called 'Hulk' because he was my favorite comic book hero. Lewis made sure I had new pictures delivered with my breakfast every morning. Her autopsy picture was the worst. The only recognizable thing was my baby hand print tattoo above her heart. Which was circled in red marker by Lewis. I had stopped opening the envelopes by the third day but he would tempt with the possibility of a letter from my Farfar. Cruelty of children at it's finest. A mark was never left upon my person but the scars run deep.

Shit heavy ass topic and no matter how much I don't want to discuss painful private matters I can't help the kinship I feel with this family seeing as how the similar our circumstances were but I'm getting to know my suppliers and we are closer due to our mutual relationships and hardships. I can't believe how closely our pain was inflicted. My father too was 'disappointed' in me and my choices even though I was a child. He was also very jealous of my relationship with his father. He could never have the opportunities my life would afford me and he wanted his father and me to pay. He made sure of it. I'm brought out of my musings by a throat clearing by our table. I look up into very familiar green eyes.

"Welcome child. Welcome home and welcome to the family my boy."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

**So my special window licking self posted an un-edited chapter thinking I'm ahead of posting. Sorry for that. I blame incompetence but I'm also training for a new job and I'm excited. The only fucking thing I hate but kinda love is the hours, 4am-2pm. So I've been zombified for the past two weeks. But back on track now I hope. Sorry for the errors.**


End file.
